


Don't Let Me Go

by svtbvngtvn



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), seventeen kpop
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I cried while writing this, M/M, i just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svtbvngtvn/pseuds/svtbvngtvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's tiring being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> So lemme just say that I’m sorry I overdramatized Wonwoo being sick but I was feeling so emotional b/c I just remembered about the song Don’t Let Me Go by Harry Styles ok (I recommend you listen to it while reading/before you read) and this was a one-shot so I’m sorry that it’s so squished and jumpy at the end. Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr + twitter (same user: svtbvngtvn)!

The room smelled of fresh linen, mixed with the concoctions of medicinal products. He stared at me, tilting his head, knowing that I couldn’t even make out words to say. “It’s going to be alright, Mingyu.” Wonwoo said softly, his hand slowly making its way towards my cheek. I instantly stopped him, my face turning a vivacious red. “It’s not alright! You didn’t tell anyone that this was happening to you – you didn’t even tell Seungcheol at least! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He didn’t say anything at first but then soon stumbled backwards, leaning onto the brace of the hospital bed. “I can’t breathe.” He exasperated. At first, I was in disbelief, but as soon as he held his chest with a frightened look on his face, I became flustered and suddenly lifted him with all of my strength on to the bed, propping pillows behind his pale neck. “Wonwoo?” I cried loudly, leaning over and pressing his head against my sunken body. The room’s lights became brighter: blinding me and encouraging my tears to blur my vision. But, it’s as if they refused to fall out on their own.

It’s not that I didn’t want to cry, it’s that I couldn’t. I refused to let him see me vulnerable.

A doctor and several nurses hurriedly entered the room, removing him from my grasp. Wonwoo gasped for air and coughed repetitively, his eyes squeezing tightly, his body visibly pulsating. The nurse pulls me outside, closing the door behind them. I glance one more time; they’re loosening his shirt and preparing an array of needles that I refuse to think about. “I think it’s best if you were to go home now.” The nurse said comfortingly. They proceeded to look at me with their hazy eyes, almost as if they’re trying to apologize to me.

As I walk out of the building, heading towards the dorm, my body tenses up and once again my face becomes hot and red. Why didn’t he tell anyone? Why did I have to find out from a hospital bill in the mail? Why was Wonwoo so hardheaded? My breaths turn into heavy huffs, my brisk walking turns into running, my anger turns into sorrow, and my tears that were once held back, are now finding their escape route, turning into small creeks on my face.

I make my way upstairs towards the small room, hoping that no one is in there. I was wrong. Jeonghan was quietly humming to himself, laying on the bottom bunk and reading a magazine. “Are you alright?” He inquires, not even bothering to put it down. He doesn’t even have to look at me to know that I’m upset. “Why are you asking?” “You didn’t say anything when you came home.” Jeonghan gets up and pats the area next to him, “Here I found this.” He hands me a picture of Wonwoo and I from predebut, laughing and smiling at each other: doused with happiness. “It was on the floor lying in a pile of broken glass, did you break the picture frame?” The answer was inevitable. When I opened the mail that morning, I was in a fury of frustration and knocked down some of the frames in the studio. I couldn’t believe that Wonwoo refused to tell anyone - he refused to tell me. “Yeah, I’m just clumsy, that’s all.” “Clumsiness doesn’t break all of the frames with pictures of you and Wonwoo.” Jeonghan retorts, handing me another photo. It was one of my favorite pictures of the both of us. On the day we took this picture, I promised him that I’d bring him back a star because he was in awe of the variety of constellations. Then he told me that stars reach high temperatures and that he’d rather watch them with me from afar instead. He also told me that it’d be stupid because it’d leave a hole in my hand, “How am I supposed to hold your hand when it’d probably be gone?”, is what he said. 

“We know.” Jeonghan abruptly commented. “You know what?” “That he’s sick.” My eyes begin to swell, filling up with tears that I didn’t even know I still had in me. The word sick made my body twinge. “When did you all find out?” I ask, clasping my hands together. “As soon as you left. We cleaned up the studio and found the paper lying beside your pictures.” I let out a constrained sob, not being able to control the hurt and agony that wrenched my heart. “I love him.” I blubber, slamming my face into my hands. I fall back onto the bed screaming, “Why didn’t he want anyone to know? Why was he so stubborn of not telling us sooner? Why does this have to happen to him? To us?” Jeonghan stared at me, his face slowly upturning, and began to cry himself. The sound of both of us crying resonated in the dorm and soon the rest of the group promptly came into the small room, all with grief painted across their faces. We all love him. But I love him. My body continues to shake, refusing to be still. Everyone rubs my back trying to console me, but no amount of comfort will ever sooth my unsettled emotions. 

Wonwoo’s been telling us that he’s just been going out for walks, but he never specified that his walks were to the hospital. He never told us that his ‘overnight stays at his friend’s house’ were in a cold hospital room. He never told us his friend was named Sickness.

Weeks passed, performances happened, promotions were held; all without Wonwoo. I found myself putting on a façade, smiling falsely; especially when questions of Wonwoo were asked, or when people would ask me to take pictures with the stuffed animal. But one thing was true: the answers. He was getting better, faster than what we expected. But, I was still phased from the day I held his weak body in my arms. I can never differentiate my daydreams from reality. “Mingyu, it’s time to go.” I shook my head, collecting my thoughts that were roaming freely in my mind. Seungcheol patted my back and I got up, feeling a sense of relief. We make our way towards the van and I take my place in the back then close my eyes, hoping that what has happened has all been a horrible fantasy. Around an hour later we finally arrive at the dorm and I immediately head towards the small room again; lately they’ve let me sleep there alone. It’s become my haven. But as soon as I approach the entrance of the room, my body freezes. My heart stops.

“Wonwoo?”

His broad back faces me, but then turns around holding the pictures in his uneasy hands. A teardrop falls onto the photographs and he looks at me melancholically. “I’m sorry.” His sincere voice quivers. I rush towards him, tightly embracing his lean, yet fragile body. “I’m sorry for not telling you.” He chokes up, gripping my shirt tightly. His tears begin to soak my shirt, like I danced in the rain, not caring if I were to get wet. We both stood there in silence. No words could describe the whirlwind of emotions that bursted from the two of us. I couldn’t believe my arms that have been wide open for so long - my arms that have been waiting to hold him again - were finally satisfied. He slowly releases his grip, looking at me with his forlorn eyes, “Don’t let me go. I’m tired of feeling alone.”


End file.
